


Rivendell Roasters

by spuffyduds



Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies), Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blanket Permission, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-25
Updated: 2012-05-25
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:32:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spuffyduds/pseuds/spuffyduds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tolkien barista AU snippet!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rivendell Roasters

**Author's Note:**

> See, what happened was thefourthvine, in her latest epic recs post, said that one of the fics she was reccing was "the equivalent, in terms of challenge level and so on, of writing a Tolkien barista AU and making it work." And then she noted that of course the coffeeshop would have to be named Rivendell and be completely snooty and Arwen is the owner's daughter who takes a lot of guff for dating this totally mainstream guy, and so forth.
> 
> Well. GAUNTLET FLANG, people. ;-)
> 
> I could not resist snippetting in her comments, and she was more than gracious about me reposting elsewhere.

Elrond is not _completely_ without self-awareness. He does _get_ , yes, that it seems like the giantest of cliches to want to keep his daughter here, in his world. To resist all the "you've got to let her go" advice he gets after one of Galadriel's "psychic" sessions, which as far as he can tell consist entirely of staring slackjawed at her reflection in the polished brass of the espresso machine.

But he just wants Arwen to be happy and safe. Here in this coffeeshop where she grew up, doing her homework at the corner table during poetry slams, painting really rather awful treehouse murals on the walls to go with the ceiling he'd decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars. He can't help wanting her here forever, his little girl, teaching the hipsters to play paper football, getting pulled up onto the tiny corner stage to play tambourine with various folkie bands named after wasting diseases.

Out in the world there is evil. There are wicked men and monsters and disappointing biscotti. In here everything is perfect because he _made_ it that way...or, at least, what isn't perfect is amusing.

And every time that man comes in, the one Elrond has secretly nicknamed "Would a Shampoo Kill You?", Arwen glows like the ceiling stars, and Elrond knows it's just a matter of time.

 

\---end---


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